


A legend a tale a story

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, there is a story, and then there is a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A legend a tale a story

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kink_bingo**](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) November Mini-Challenge [my table: [LJ](http://megyal.livejournal.com/348067.html) | [DW](http://megyal.dreamwidth.org/313596.html); same table in both places]. Prompt: Bondage.

At first, there is a boy.

No... at first, there is a _story_ of a boy, a tale, a legend. Draco hears these stories when he is three years old, from an old house-elf who can make pretty pictures appear, like flickering mist, over its overly-large, spindly fingers. By the time he is nearly four, this house-elf, Minzy is gone. Freed. Banished.

But Draco has a good memory, a _Malfoy_ memory, and he can't forget how the boy appears in the faint images that Minzy had shown him. Wide green eyes and a mop of black hair, and Draco wanted to capture this boy, this story, in his plump pink fingers and keep him close _always_.

At first, there is a story, and then there is a boy and Draco had tried to know everything he could about the boy, to trap him in his memory forever and ever.

When he went to get fitted for his school-robes, his mind had been filled with what he would say and do when he would meet the boy, the story, the legend. He would capture the boy, he would keep him safe and close and he would show him how good it was to have a friend who was a Malfoy. A little scruffy thing had come in then, about as large as a dormouse and just as wary. Draco should have known it was him, but there had been a reflection of light in those massive glasses on his face, and Draco hadn't seen his bright eyes.

When he had found out, he had been supremely upset; he had been even more upset when Harry Potter had turned away from his outstretched hand.

A legend, a story, a tale... a boy.

A boy, a boy, a boy. Draco had hated him then, and had even reached a point where he wanted to clench his hands around that pale neck and squeeze it, pull that life into his own body, use it to propel himself to fame and infamy. He wanted to squeeze so tight that Harry would plead with him, tell him that he would do anything, everything. The story moved only to the back of his mind when he was trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, and even then, a faint unavailable wish would thread through his dark-weary thoughts now and again: if he could only capture Harry Potter, hold him tight, then it would all be right again.

A stoic boy, a confused teenager, a brave young man, a legend a tale a story...

*

He lay on his stomach, face turned to the side. He could see the white curtains move in the wind and he breathed in and out with every lazy billow. It would be best just to relax. His arms were tied behind his back, flat against the bare, cool skin. The spell that bound him had a silky sensation, but when he tried to move his arms, the individual strands pull taut, like snakes constricting prey.

He can't see the mirror unless he turned his head the other way, and he wasn't interested in seeing the expanse of his naked body caught in a shimmering web.

The voice he had been waiting for murmured, "How beautiful you are," and he felt the ropes shift, moving him gently but persistently onto his back, arms still locked in the same position as he was placed against the pillows, legs pulled up and back and wide. The other man crawled onto the bed, touching his knee reverently. Such an odd place to touch, when there were miles of other, more appealing places to fondle, but a finger traced around his kneecap and he shuddered. He tried to shift his leg, to move closer to the touch, but the ropes held him firmly.

"I thought you wanted this." His captor's voice was intense. "Don't you?"

"Yes," he answered instantly. There was no other answer than that. "Harry--"

A finger rested briefly across Draco's lips, cutting off his words, and Harry's magic pulled his legs even wider, exposing his erect cock and prepared hole. Harry's hand travelled down his stomach, lightly tickling the inside of his thighs and considering the weight of his balls. Draco wanted to move into his hands completely, to be caught completely within Harry... so that he can, in his own way, keep Harry close.

The story, the legend, this tale, was so _real_ ; it was so warm and powerful and calm and compassionate and angry and sulky and hurtful. Draco could hardly breathe, from how it all choked him with its irrefutable presence.

Harry's voice was low in his ear as his thick cock slid inside and Draco gasped and trembled; his body can't move but his mind whipped around the story the tale the legend...

 _fin_


End file.
